Fleetie's Crossing

by K. Bruce Florence

  I was very careful not to mention that I knew Daddy had another card to play in any dealing with Larry. The truth was there was a thing or two that Larry probably would do just as soon that Daddy didn’t make public knowledge. Daddy had seen him one time in Knoxville having dinner with Cheryl. It was not general knowledge that he had started seeing Cheryl long before Emma left him. Who knows why? But he wanted everyone to think that Emma was the guilty party in the divorce. Larry didn’t know that Daddy would cut off his right hand before he used that kind of intimidation on any man, but since Larry used all the dirt he could on people, he could not understand that he was safe from whatever knowledge Daddy might have.

  Daddy walked into the kitchen, where and Mother and I were folding laundry. “Is there any aspirin in the house? My head feels like an axe split it.”

  She shook her head, and he picked up the car keys on the counter. “I need to go to town to see if I can work out something for Burl.”

  “For pity’s sake, what more do you want to do now? Drinking your fool head off? Keeping him company? Looks to me like plenty to do. Burl is either always in trouble or causing trouble for someone else. It’s about time he straightened up and acted more like his daddy,” said Mother.

  “What I’m about to do could make it easier for Fleet and the kids. You wouldn’t want to stop that, would you?”

  Mother stood looking at him for a long minute. He had touched an old argument between them about Burl’s meanness, and Mother was not going to let Daddy off scot-free.

  As they talked, I was hatching a plan. It occurred to me that I might get to escape the laundry and a whole list of other jobs that Mother had planned for me. I slipped out the back door and hid in the back seat of the car. It was a trick I pulled fairly often, and Daddy never seemed to mind. Mother wouldn’t miss me. Leatha and I roamed the mountain as much as we stayed close to the house. So here was my opportunity to skip the quarrel over Burl and go to town as a bonus.

  As I walked across the porch, I heard her laying down the law. “Since you have made your mind up to go, take Logan with you, I’m not about to let you leave this house alone. No telling who else you might run into who need to drink away their sorrow. You make good and sure you two are back here for your supper. And for lord’s sake, keep yourself out of trouble.”

  “Lordy, Katie Bell, you sure are hard on a weak man. Where’s my big boy?”

  Mother turned her back on him, trying to hide the smile tormenting her jaw. Daddy always made her laugh, even when she was furious, but this time, she was determined not to let Daddy off easy. It was obvious that she was still upset about last night.

  Chapter 33

  TWELVE CASKETS

  The deaths of twelve men in the Worsham mine touched every home in the narrow valley. Mine deaths were woven into the fragile threads of a miner’s family life, but nothing could prepare the county for the impact of losing twelve men in a single day. Twelve widows and forty-six orphans were left to face a level of poverty more desperate than even the strike had brought. Death benefits, if they could be wrested out of the tight fists of owners, operators, and union officials, would barely cover the cost of the simple funerals.

  More than one miner’s widow knew she could see her children parceled out among scattered relatives much as one might distribute a litter of hound pups. It was even worse for those with no patch of land to farm for a bare subsistence. They had no hope of keeping their family together. More than one child from their valley had grown up in one of the orphanages scattered beyond the county borders.

  Anyone driving through the valley could see sawhorses in yards at house after house. They were set to hold coffins as they were being built by stricken relatives and friends. Woodworking, carving, and even whittling was a craft most of the men and many of the women loved to have their hands on. But these skills and talents had to be set aside as the men went underground to carry out the brute-force work it took to pull carbon chunks from the earth. But today, the men from the stricken families ran their hands over cured boards and selected for the coffins their finest seasoned oak, walnut, or cherry.

  They would pour their grief and frustration into the painstaking cabinet work it took to fashion a beautiful casket. Long into the night, men, women, and children would sand and polish the wood until it gleamed with a patina so rich and deep, their stricken faces would be reflected back at them. The splendid caskets, fine enough for a lord, would be lined by the women with their finest quilts laid back against a day there would be a special need. Yet each household would feel apologetic that they could not provide a store-bought coffin from Dawood Brothers, the local undertakers.

  Behind the neighbors’ doors, the women sorted through carefully saved yards of fabric to fashion funeral clothes for each orphaned child. No family would face the shame of dressing their little ones in shabby clothes. Strangers drawn in to gawk and to rubberneck by the sensational stories in the Knoxville News Sentinel would be disappointed by the lack of barefooted hillbillies parading their grief for the world to examine.

  Daddy often spoke with great pride to outlanders about the strength and dignity of his people. As we drove through the valley that day, we stopped often, and Daddy would carry Logan, and I walked with him to pass a few minutes with people on their porches or front yards. As we joined each family, Daddy had little to say. What possible words were there in the face of the pain of all these families? One of the women would break the ice by taking Logan and making a fuss over his blond curls and his sprinkle of freckles. Daddy would run his hand over the rich work of the casket work being done and whisper, “Looks good, Lige, Enoch. Mighty fine work. A sin to lose them boys. They’ll be missed.”

  Black-draped windows welcomed us that day in house after house. Each stop still weighed on our minds long after he had driven down the road. I had seen a little of this grief before when there were other mine accidents, and it is not something that I will ever forget. The widows’ faces wore a death pallor with line-etched faces grown old in nothing but a blink of time. Of the women we met that day, not one of them was older than thirty, yet they would never again be considered young or pretty.

  The price life had wrested from them had been paid early. The hardships the widows had facing them would take a deadly toll in the next few years. Mountain existence was just barely possible for two and so seldom survived by one that the rare woman who managed it at all was usually branded a witch by heedless children who had no ken of a woman living alone.

  “Rachel, you know I have half a notion to turn this car around. I am in no mood to put up with a man who has never known a hard day in his life. Larry Windham has too much of this county under his control. I am not a bit happy about asking him to hire Burl.”

  “What about Fleetie and the kids? What is going to happen if Burl can’t get a job?” I asked.

  Daddy sighed. “I guess Larry’s oversized ego doesn’t really make that much difference when we think about what is going to happen to the family if Burl can’t get on somewhere else.”

  “Well, it is for sure that Burl is not likely to care what happens to Fleetie and the kids.”

  “Rachel, that is just not true. Burl cares more than you know. He just has a hard time showing it. You are way too hard on him.”

  I was about to disagree, but Daddy stopped his car at the end of the Windhams’ driveway. He stepped out and reached back for Logan, whose wide grin did not match the mood of the day, and the three of us walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Daddy’s face was set into his “lawyer” mask, revealing nothing and hinting less. Those who knew him well would have seen the nervous twitch running along his hairline to his earlobe. He lifted his hand to knock on the imposing mahogany door, but it swung open before his hand reached the brass knocker.

  “Come in, Mr. Ramsey,” said Cheryl Windham. “I saw you drive up. Hello, Rachel.” She walked over to Daddy and held out her arms. “
Would you look at that precious baby? May I take him?”

  Daddy nodded and handed a willing Logan to her. “I am sorry to bother you at home, Mrs. Windham, but I have a little personal business to discuss with Larry. I thought I might catch him before he got off somewhere. I promise it won’t take long.”

  “Please call me Cheryl. I am so glad you stopped in. Let me get you a cup of coffee. Larry is out back, messing with one of his bird dogs. I’ll go get him. May I take Logan with me? I bet he would like a cookie and some milk in the kitchen with me. Rachel, would you like to go with us?”

  “No, ma’am. I’ll stay with Daddy. But watch Logan. He loves spoiling. Don’t let him talk you out of all the sugar in the house.”

  Daddy smiled at me as Cheryl turned and disappeared into the back of the house. Daddy took two steps with me right behind him toward the wide picture window and the sweeping vista of a wide tree-filled valley below. None of the misery down below was evident from this long view. It might even be possible standing there to imagine that the beauty of the valley was the reality and that poverty, death, and sorrow was the illusion.

  Larry walked in as we were admiring the panorama spread out in front of us. “Afternoon, Ed, Rachel. How about that view? I use to hunt up here when I first came to Harlan County. The view was such a distraction. I never did get much game on this hill. I figured I’d build here and hide what a sorry hunter I am. Please, please have a seat. Can I get you and Rachel something to drink?”

  “Good to see you, Larry. No, thank you. We won’t be long, but thank you. Training a bird dog? Cheryl mentioned you had a dog out back.”

  “No, not training. I don’t hunt enough anymore to make it worth my while. Takes forever to get a pointer working good. I miss it though. That’s why I keep my dogs, I guess.”

  “How would you like to have a little more time to run those dogs again?” said Daddy.

  “How’s that? Something to do with this terrible business at the mine? Good men gone so quick. All those families . . .”

  “One of those families is the reason I’m here, Larry. I heard your farm was doing fine, and you might be looking to put on a hand or two to keep it prospering. Did I hear right?”

  “You’ll have to come go with me to see the herd, Ed. Not a calf lost this spring, but I swear it’s working the life out of me and my hand, Billy. With the strike over, the work will be picking up too. There’s hardly time to take a breath. I’m gone from daylight to dark. Cheryl doesn’t take to it well either. You think you know somebody who knows something about herding?”

  “Most of the men who grew up around here were raised on farming, Larry. The mines might be sucking the life out of them, but what hours are left in the day, they spend tending their animals and raising some kind of little crop. That’s how most of them keep decent food on the table. That commissary truck is a poor substitute for healthy eating, and besides, it takes too much of their pay. If it wasn’t for their crops, they’d have nothing extra for their kids, and the women are as good at farming as their men.”

  Larry listened to Daddy, the lawyer defending a client, but Larry pressed the point. “Dirt farming doesn’t mean any of them know how to take care of a herd of fine cattle.”

  “No, truth is they are all pretty good with animals, but Burl Sargeant is even better than most. His back is against the wall, Larry. He has six kids, a crippled arm, and more anger than is healthy. This last blast has taken something out of him. He needs to get out of the mines, and you and the rest of the operators need to get him out too. The boys follow Burl’s lead, and in his frame of mind, that is bound to lead to trouble for everybody.”

  “Why should I hire a troublemaker, Ed? God bless! I’ve got my hands full. Hiring a hothead to herd the best cattle around these parts doesn’t strike me as a smart move.”

  “He’ll surprise you. Get him away from the anger gouging at him in the mines, and he is a different man. Your cattle will prosper under his hand. Give it a chance. You’ll thank me. Your missus will thank me too.”

  At the mention of Cheryl, Larry looked off in the distance. Shaking himself back to the conversation, he answered Daddy, “I’ll give him six months, Ed. If he can keep his head and get my herd through spring calving, I’ll keep him on permanent.”

  “When do you want to talk to him?”

  “After the funerals are finished, have him come to the bank. I want to take him out to the farm myself. I’m going to be keeping a close eye on him. I’m a bastard to work for, but he must be pretty good if you’re willing to argue his case for him.”

  “I probably ought to thank you, Larry, but the truth is the only thanks you’ll value will be his work out there on the farm. I’ll tell Burl to stop by early next week. I’ll get my young’uns and get on home before Katie sends out a posse and takes my scalp for missing the kids’ dinner. You won’t be sorry about Burl. If I thought you would, I’d have stayed out of it.”

  We walked with Larry to the back of the house and found Logan and Cheryl running Larry’s antique Lionel train. Daddy thanked Cheryl and carried a reluctant Logan out the back door and around the house to the car. Looking at Daddy, I could only guess at how he had to be tickled inside.

  He had forced himself to restrain his reaction to Larry’s offer, but as he lifted Logan over the back of the seat and saw him settled, he stretched back, winked at me, and whispered, “Hey, Rooster! Want to go get some ice cream?”

  Dinner was forgotten, and Mother was going to kill us, but right at that moment, I wasn’t anything but happy. Daddy drove off, singing “John Peel” at the top of his lungs with Logan jumping up and down behind him.

  Chapter 34

  THE BANK

  Leatha told me the next day that just as soon as Daddy told Burl to go talk with Larry Windham, he began talking all brave about how he was going to tell ole Larry just how it was, by god, and the rest of us were welcome to stand and watch. Leatha was not fooled by his blustering and big talk, but she was as hopeful as he was about the possibility of the new job.

  Miners’ kids hate the mines. They hate the fear that grows forever deeper in the faces of their mothers. They hate the smothering black that hides their fathers’ faces at the end of the day. They hate the fatigue that chases away laughter and music and makes all fun hostage to deep tunnels in the surrounding mountains. While all of us who lived here knew and accepted mining as a part of life, we didn’t have to like it. We didn’t like copperheads and poison ivy either, but they were all around us and were part of where we lived. Guess you can get used to anything if you have to.

  Burl had no trouble leading the men he had grown up and worked with, but Daddy told me the idea of having to face Windham left Burl scared and breathless. I could just imagine that his insides were twisting into painful knots. His nerves might be jangled, but if I knew him at all, I was sure that his courage had not left him. While I could cheerfully wring his neck most of the time, I had to admit that he could face up to whatever bad stuff came his way.

  Fleetie told Leatha and me that Burl had not slept a wink for a week, and so after a sleepless week, he drove to town on Friday afternoon to see Windham. Fleetie was worried about him and made up some excuse to have to go to town. She took Leatha and me to help her by running errands while she went to the doctor’s office for Gen. The two of us rode in the back of the truck, a treat absolutely forbidden by my very cautious mother. I lucked up and got permission from Daddy to go to town, and I just sort of forgot to tell him about the back of the truck. Of course, I didn’t have to. He knew very well that if I was going with Leatha, the only place for us to ride was the back of the truck. Daddy never seemed to feel that he had to wring every drop of fun from life.

  When we got to town, Burl parked a block away from the front door of the bank and climbed down from behind the wheel. Leatha jumped down from the bed and turned around to grab my hand, but I was already in midflight.
We both broke into giggles. Fleetie clucked at us as she stepped down from the front seat. She hurried and caught up with Burl, while Leatha and I trailed far enough behind so Burl wouldn’t pay any attention to us. He was probably so preoccupied with what he was going to say that the last thing on his mind was two kids. Besides that, we kept quiet and stayed far enough back that not even our shadows crossed his path.

  As we drew near the front door of the bank, Fleetie stopped and told Burl she was going on up Central Street to the doctor’s office. Leatha and I stayed behind and followed Burl into the bank.

  The gleaming brass door handles, the click of marble floors, and the forbidding cashier cages worked to put one in awe of the place. I was just glad I wasn’t the one who had to talk to Larry Windham. While he seemed nice enough when I went with Daddy to visit him, this place made Windham seem somehow much more vaunted and powerful.

  Leatha said, “Rachel, I am going to go catch Mama. You going?”

  “No, I want to hear what Larry says so I can tell Daddy.”

  Leatha pushed open the heavy door and stepped onto the sidewalk. I stood beside one of the marble columns just outside Windham’s office as Burl walked in. I sat down next to his door.

  “Come in, Burl.” Larry rose from the massive cherry desk, and I could tell as his voice drew nearer, he had walked over to shake Burl’s hand. He hovered so close to the door that I could almost hear him breathing. “Come in, Burl. Have a seat here on the couch. Did you ever see such fine leather?”

  Burl must have shaken his head. “If it’s just the same, Mr. Windham. I’d just as soon stand. Ed tells me you might need a man to help run your farm. I’d do you a good job. They’s nothing I do better than farming, and I need the work.”